Morganville Vampires: The Ice Queen
by Lady Fandom
Summary: In the days before Morganville, Amelie held many of her own adventures, be they romantic or dangerous. In this particular period of her life, she meets a strange, vampire who promises to be interesting while she struggles with her feelings for Oliver.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is another Morganville Fan Fiction! :) I hope you find it interesting since I took a bit of a different approach for this one. Review please! **

**Chapter 1**

An icy princess with locks of streaming moonlight sat on her throne of pearl and pale blue. Her gray eyes were faded with boredom as she stared through the stain glass windows into the dark night. Sighing heavily, she smoothed her gown of icy blue silk and intricate, snowy embroidery with her elegant hands.

"Such an ugly sound for the queen of beauty," purred a familiar, seductive voice. Amelie knew who it was before she even looked around. Sure enough, her pensive gaze found that of the tall, dark man who now strode into the throne room with a leisurely, arrogant gait.

"Such audacious words for one not of royalty," Amelie retorted.

A smirk curled Oliver's mouth. The two had always exchanged conflicting words; though unspoken and not-acted upon between the two there lived a tension of an intimate nature.

Oliver performed an exaggerated, sarcastic bow. "I beg your pardon, your highness."

A grimace gnarled Amelie's features, and she turned back to her thoughts.

"Well, well! There are few people you'll allow to show your highness such impudence," said a towering shadow that stepped around from behind Amelie's throne. She hardly acknowledged Myrnin's arrival, seeing as she'd sensed him appear in the throne room quite some time ago. He'd always been one to lurk in the shadows.

At the sound of Myrnin's voice, Oliver's smug expression was exchanged with one of deep hatred. The pair could not reside in the same room without butting heads.

"I see you're as ridiculously extravagant as always," Oliver snarled. It was true. Myrnin _was_ one for elaborate clothing and behavior. Today, he was sporting a scarlet outfit with golden designs. His bifocals sat low on his slightly crooked nose, and his unruly, black hair curled around his shoulders like a material made from night: twisted and tangled yet soft.

Myrnin glanced down at himself in mock surprise then looked at Oliver. "Well, I offer my thanks! You haven't changed much either: still dull and dark."

Before the sneer could stretch too far across Oliver's face, Amelie stepped in. "I hate to interrupt your petty dispute, but why are you here, Oliver?"

That grabbed both men's attention.

"Actually, I have something of a rather great deal of importance to discuss with you," Oliver said. He glanced meaningfully at Myrnin. "Preferably alone."

Myrnin clapped his hands loudly and exclaimed, "Oh! My dear queen, I think he's finally admitting to his lust for your unmatched beauty."

Oliver's eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated malice. Amelie huffed, exasperated, and interjected before the two could begin another spat. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

Oliver physically composed himself before answering, "I thought you might like to be informed of the new arrival in town before your father caught wind of him." Amelie's head snapped around, her cold eyes wide and attentive. A dark grin traveled over Oliver's features. "Yes, I predicted that this might interest you." Rising from her throne, Amelie asked,

"Who is this newcomer? Does he not know of the dreadful rule of my father?"

"Ask him yourself, your majesty." Oliver snapped his fingers, and in the next moment the enormous, mahogany double-doors of the throne room croaked open. Standing in the doorway, sharp features outlined by velvety, blue-black hair, was a handsome young vampire. His billowing Renaissance shirt, stained with dirt and blood, was nearly falling from his torso in tatters. Being a woman, it was impossible for Amelie not to notice the young man's form. Despite his dirty state, his body was unharmed and quite becoming. His washboard abdomen—half revealed by his tattered clothing—left no room for desire. The vampire queen couldn't prevent herself from imagining her fingers running the length of his abs, perhaps brushing the hem of his pants— Amelie shook her head to rid her mind of such perverse thoughts. She may have been the ice queen, but her heart was still that of a woman with feminine desires and passions.

"What is your name, young one?" Amelie inquired, her cool façade never breaking.

"James Flight, your majesty," replied the man. His British accent echoed through the throne room.

"A Londoner?"

James Flight bowed stiffly toward Amelie. "_Oui_, my lady. I must apologize. My French is quite immature."

"Indeed," Myrnin growled from Amelie's side. She took little notice of him, though.

"It is fortunate you were brought here, my young vampire. My father is a merciless ruler. And he despises the British. He is hardly in the palace himself, but I think it best we find you suitable housing quickly," she said.

James blinked and glanced uncertainly to the side at something behind the door.

Before Amelie could question his action, Oliver snickered, "Ah, but, dear queen, our youngest addition has not arrived unaccompanied."

Frowning in confusion, Amelie's tone was saturated with irritation as she replied, "And? We can provide for his companion—" The moment she saw James's accompaniment, she bit her tongue.

This was going to be far more difficult than she'd initially suspected.

James Flight, a full-fledged vampire, now held the hand of a very small, chubby girl. She looked to be six or seven, and copper waves shimmered past her shoulders like a waterfall of coins. The girl seemed shy, refusing to look anywhere but at the marble floor, and she kept her thumb between her lips.

And she was human.

"What is the meaning of this, James Flight?" Amelie gasped. It was widely known that Bishop, her father, did not allow any new humans into his inner kingdom without first having a contract with them, even children.

The younger vampire swallowed with some difficulty. "My lady, this is my daughter."

Even Myrnin grunted in surprise now.

"What do you mean? You are a vampire."

"Yes, but I have only been so for a little over six years. My wife died giving birth to Quita. Just a few months afterward, I was turned."

"I don't know how the rest of you see this, but I find it quite immoral to carry around a blood bag, especially one that is _literally_ your own flesh and blood," Myrnin grimaced. He looked down his nose at James with contempt.

James's eyes widened. "N-No! No, I do not feed from her! Never!"

"Then how _do_ you feed? Surely, if you care at all for you mortal daughter, you would not wish upon her the sight of your feedings."

James's face showed his deep shame. He appeared to feel ashamed of being what he was. "I would never do that."

A long silence ensued during which Myrnin seemed to make note of every single thing about the young man, Oliver smirked smugly with his arms crossed, and Amelie struggled to keep her thoughts straight. The young vampire really stretched her self-control. Something about him, a certain vulnerable quality, made her fangs slide out in deep hunger, and not the blood kind.

"They can stay with me," Myrnin said, to everyone's surprise.

James gaped at the elder vampire. "What?"

"Are you deaf?" snapped Myrnin. "I alone can offer you and your kin the shelter you require." He turned on his heel, raised a hand to motion for James and Quita to follow, and ordered, "Come."

James stared after the estranged vampire until Oliver scoffed, "Well? Scurry out of here, you scum!"

That got him moving.

He ascended the steps with his daughter, bowed to Amelie, and then passed her to trail after Myrnin.

Amelie, exasperated, glowered at Oliver from her throne. "Why must you treat everyone with such harshness?"

"Why must you seal your heart away in a frozen coffin, you highness?" he spat back.

Blinking slowly, Amelie gazed at him for a while longer. His dark eyes glowed with a fierce, hungry light that was not usually present. Everything about him, posture, tone, expression expressed tension. Controlling her curiosity, the ice queen rose from her perch. "I bid you farewell, Oliver. I have no time to further dabble in your childish games."

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He simply stared after her, eyes reflecting the firelight.

Porcelain skin revealed, Amelie looked into the floor length mirror at her bedside. She stared at her flesh, which had seen nearly no sun at all in its many years. It would probably never see anymore. Her father had turned her when she was quite young, against her will. The heart that no longer beat within her bosom resented him deeply for that. She, along with Oliver and Myrnin, plotted to destroy him once and for all.

But that was no easy feat.

Bishop was a firm believer in keeping his enemies close. That's the only reason she, Oliver, and Myrnin were still within his inner kingdom.

Huffing, Amelie began to undo the ties of her corset. Bishop would not allow servants inside his palace, which Amelie didn't mind. She preferred to be solitary much of the time, and she found them to be a hassle when she wished to undress.

Able to breathe properly once again with the garment removed, Amelie sighed in relief. She began to undress her undergarments when a deep, sultry voice thrummed, "Well, I'm quite flattered, Amelie."

Whirling around, Amelie gasped as her eyes lay upon the creature in the shadows of her bedchamber.

Oliver, leaning against the intricate tapestry on the wall, was molesting her with his unabashed gaze. First impulse being to cover her exposed body, Amelie forced herself not flinch. She stood, nearly naked, with just a thin, white gown over her skin in front of his fiery eyes.

Stepping closer, Oliver snaked his eyes from her bare legs, up along her prominent hips, over her flat stomach, to rest on her generous chest. She fought the urge to fling past him for something to cover her body with.

Standing her ground, she allowed him to flutter his fingers along her collarbone, wakening trembles along her spine. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers.

After the initial shock of the passion kindling in the chasms that were his eyes, Amelie glared and pressed a hand to his chest. His fingers halted in their caress of her neck.

"No, Oliver," she declared loudly.

When he spoke then, her knees nearly buckled, though his murmured words only feathered across her cheek. "No what?"

"You know what." Amelie could feel her steel resolve wavering as she stared into his eyes.

"Why?" He tore his eyes from hers to look at his fingers where they rested on her neck. He began to slide them along her jawline, and she closed her eyes, a shudder running throughout her body. "It's obvious we both want this. There is no point in resisting," he whispered, moving his lips close to her ear.

"Yes, there is," she said, but even to her own ears her words did not sound sincere.

Her gray eyes opened once again to meet Oliver's. In the next moment, their lips pressed to one another's. His tongue grazed her lips, tempting them open. Aggressively, his hand trailed through her silky hair, tangling it in his fingers.

Swept into his river of passion, Amelie's body went numb. She couldn't remember moving to the bed or losing the rest of her clothing. Somehow, she regained consciousness while she unbuttoned his black pants, but she still couldn't stop. She didn't want to.

Oliver had been right. She did want this, very much.


	2. Chapter 2

** Sorry for the wait! I've been really busy with school and haven't been getting much writing done at all lately! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! Thanks for the great reviews! They made me very happy! :D**

** Chapter 2**

Gazing around at the cluttered mess that choked the small, dark room, James pressed his daughter's body closer to his side. Though the young Brit had no reservations on the subject of housekeeping, he held dark suspicions of the contents of the many opaque flasks and jars littering the tabletops.

Quita extended a small, delicate hand—nearly identical to her dear mother's—to touch a beaker full of an odd-looking liquid, but James snatched her hand back before her pudgy fingers could even graze the glass. She let out a huffing breath of indignation, but James ignored her pouting. The child's feelings had been known to bruise easily.

"I do hope you don't expect of us to travel through this place often," James hinted cautiously. His deep tone sounded far louder than normal in such a confined and stuffy space; though there were two others accompanying him, it made the atmosphere all the lonelier.

"Of course not. I would never allow it. You and your child would most definitely tamper with my studies in such ways those not members of the study of science do, and I won't have that. After today this office is no longer welcome to your or your kin's presence; is my point clear enough for your foolish, immature brain to understand?" Myrnin said, his tone mocking and cold, making evident his dislike for the young vampire and his child. This wakened the wonder in James's mind as to why this peculiar man had offered them hospitality at all.

Instead of inquiring about this, however, James resolved to lighten the mood for the sake of his daughter whose eyes had taken on a frightened shine and her thumb was once again past her plump lips. He asked, "I take it, then, that you are a scholar. What do you study?"

Myrnin's towering figure came to a halt as he reached a door on the opposite end of the circular room, and he appeared to stiffen at James's query. But then he answered simply, "Everything." Then he inserted a rusty key into the hole of the door and turned it; beyond expanded a very long, very dim, stone corridor. James harbored no fear of the dark—being a vampire—however, his child squealed in terror at the sight before her, shocking Myrnin for a moment. He blinked in consternation, but then he slowly moved to a small table, retrieved a half-melted candle and lit it. Next, he bent—carefully almost, as if he were as afraid of her as she of the dark—to hand the flickering light to Quita. Batting her long-lashed, green eyes, the girl slid her tiny hand through the handled of the candleholder. In doing so, her skin brushed that of the odd scholar's, and he yanked his hand back with the agility of a cobra's strike.

Quita, however, seemed not fazed by the incident, but instead, she grinned widely at the vampire, cradling the candle as close to her bosom as the heat would allow. The hint of a smile struggled its way onto Myrnin's face, though it was obvious he was trying to hide it.

Turning away from them, Myrnin gestured down the hall and made a sweeping bow to usher them in. "Your quarters reside at the extent of this corridor. Please keep your daily goings on quiet so that I may not be disturbed by your presence."

James clasped Quita's free hand in his own to reassure her, but the child no longer seemed afraid. No, she now appeared quite content; so content, in fact, that she felt the need to place a kiss on the cheek of the bent-over vampire as she passed. Myrnin straightened up as if a bolt of lightning had just struck him, and he stared after Quita as she skipped gleefully ahead of her father and into the gloom of the passageway. Chuckling to himself, James glanced back at the flabbergasted vampire. "Many thanks, my good man," he called. But Myrnin's ears seemed to have gone deaf from the display of affection which the child had departed upon him.

A smile curling his lips, James trailed after his daughter as her plump, little form bounced along, the light of the candle bobbing around her like an angel guardian watching over her. They traveled along the dim corridor for quite some time until the pair came to face a large, heavy, water-stained—as if it was often leaked upon—oak door set in the wall at the dead end of the passage.

Grasping the thick, iron door handle, James opened the door onto a dingy room that smelled quite intensely of mold. It seemed this room was not often put to use because the entire expanse—furniture and all—was coated in a thick film of dust.

Quita bounded in, ahead of James, to set the candle on the small, wooden table in the center of the room, and then she twirled like a gypsy, whipping her plain, brown frock around in a circle. "It's so small, Papa! I love it!" The child wasn't actually referring the literal size of the room; for the length and width of the room were quite extensive. No, Quita meant the fact that it looked like someone had taken the main rooms of a house and combined them all into a single chamber.

A kitchen station, complete with stone counters, a stone sink, and pine cabinets, occupied the corner to the left. The corner next to it, diagonal from the doorway, held a pair of modest cots covered by thin, brown quilts. Most of the opposite side of the room had been devoted to knowledge; for it sported several bookcases and plush armchairs.

Quita rushed toward the volumes resting upon the shelves and carefully slid a rather thick one from the lowest shelf. James had been sure to teach his daughter as much as he could, and she had taken quite a liking to reading. He supposed that she was even better than he, even at her unripe age.

"Now, now, mi Quita, put this novel away. Sleep is what your young body is in need of. Come, I will tuck you in," James said, placing an affectionate hand upon the girl's shoulder. She sighed but obliged to leave the book on the table and allowed her father to guide her to the cots in the corner.

Once she was ready and settled, James kissed her brow and brushed a thumb across her cheek. Her long lashes fluttered, and James fought the hunger growing like a black weed inside of him. "Good night, Papa," she muttered, already drifting into a sweet slumber.

James swallowed with difficulty to disperse the knot that had formed in his throat so that he could reply quietly, "Buenos noches, mi Quita."

Quita's mother had been from Spain, where James had met her. He was quite fond of the beautiful country, and he'd named Quita in honor of her mother's heritage.

As the biting pain intensified, James took hold of the candle and started for the door opposite the one they'd come through. His senses screamed at him no to leave, to place his lips to her skin and to drink the elixir which pumped through her veins, but he could smell a faint breath of fresh air past that door. Quickly, he exited, escaping Quita's entrancing scent before he lost control. Behind the door, he was met with another passageway, but it was far shorter than the last one. He sped along the grimy stone as fast as his aching body would allow. Finally, he burst out into the frozen breath of night. Fighting to retain control of his ever-slipping mind, James scented the air for prey.

Instead of a meal, however, his keen nose caught wind of a rather odd scent.

It was that of another vampire; one he'd never met.

Before he could act in any way, however, James Flight lost his grip on consciousness.

O.o.O

Again, Quita's slumber was disturbed by dreams of a rather unsettling nature. They always start the same: happy, sunny, beautiful.

But then something would always happen.

Blinking open her emerald eyes, Quita saw her mother's face, like always. The cinnamon skin, the cocoa hair, the candy-sweet smile; Quita loved it all. Quita felt her lips turn up in a grin as her little hand reached to stroke her mother's silky hair.

Slowly, as if she were underwater, Sofia, Quita's mother, began to stand up. Quita, feeling disappointed at her mother's leaving, rolled onto her stomach to frown up at her mother; the hundreds of daisies sprouting in the field they sat in waved at her as if saying good-bye. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness flooded over Quita, and as she watched, her mother, still smiling, though the smile was now somehow sad, seemed to levitate into the air. Then, Sofia's image began to fade like shadow in the face of light. Not only Sofia, but the entire field started to disappear, leaving behind a blackness like death.

Quita shrieked for Papa, but even to her own ear, there came no sound.

_Things_ shifted in the corner of her eye; faint sounds like whispers fluttered just at the edge of her hearing; invisible fingers brushed her, sending shivers all over her body. Quita screamed, choking on the terror that rose like bile in her throat.

Bolting straight up, covers flying from her, Quita struggled to calm her racing heart, which, if it were to beat any more swiftly, she feared would burst forth from her chest to flop helplessly on the sheets like a landed fish. Wiping sweat from her brow, the child moved her trembling frame so that her feet dangled off the edge of the cot.

It warmed her slightly to find that her father had left a candle lit on the table.

Sliding from her perch, she straightened her white nightgown, which her father had found in one of the cabinets. The chilly stone beneath her feet sent tingles through her, but she stepped to the table anyway and grabbed the leather-bound volume which she'd extracted from the shelf and lain here earlier. Plopping herself onto one of the dusty armchairs, she smoothed her tiny palm over the ancient cover.

A feeling of serenity spreading throughout her, Quita settled in to read the novel for a greater portion of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

** Okay! Sorry for the wait; I've been working on…well, a collage of other projects. Ha-ha, anyway, thank you so much, everybody, for the reviews! I sent a mental cookie to each of you. Hope it was tasty. ;) Also, I would like to note that a character dedication is in order. The new character in this story, Caterina, is in honor of my exquisitely fantastic friend, Evanescence-in-Constantinople. :D (Also, I'd like to stress that none of Caterina's acts in any way represent Evanescence-in-Constantinople).**

** Chapter 3**

A blood-curdling shriek hurled James into a frantic state of consciousness. Mind reeling, James forced his stupefied eyesight to focus so he could determine just who had screamed and why.

Finally, brain ready to commit mutiny from the severe throbbing that pounded upon it, James made out the figure of his daughter standing several feet from where he lay on the ground. Her eyes—so like his own—gaped at him, fear flashing its ugly face in them. James looked down at himself in confusion. What he saw made even his own stomach churn in disgust.

There upon his breast it was painted, a hideous layer of scarlet; there upon his hands it crusted a sickly brown; there upon the ground it sprinkled like smashed berries.

Blood.

Shifting his eyes back to Quita, James choked, "No."

Tears spilling from her emerald eyes, little Quita took a step backward; just then, however, a fathomless pit split in the ground behind her. The little girl lost her footing, plunging into the deep blackness below with a horrified scream. James called for his sweet daughter, but someone kept calling his name in the distance, as if through a wall of glass.

James's eyes burst open, and he scrambled to sit up. His face and back drenched with abnormal sweat,—for he was indeed a vampire, creatures that do not perspire—James fumbled to know his surroundings, for they were not familiar.

He was situated on a rickety, wooden pallet with thin blankets beneath and atop him for cushioning; at his bedside, there knelt a woman of breathtaking allure. Her sweeping, silver gown flowed like water around her, and the jewelry strung about her neck and wrists held a delicate nature which only enhanced the attraction of her stunning appearance.

"Ah, you've awakened, James. Wonderful," breathed the woman in a seductive, disgustingly sweet voice.

Shoving himself quickly onto his elbows, James gasped, "Who—who are you? How do you know my name?"

A hand fluttering to her lips, she giggled a syrupy-sweet chuckle. "Oh, I am a dear friend of Oliver's."

"O-Oliver?" James repeated, his mind still attempting to untangle itself from his dreams.

"Why, yes. My sweet Oliver…" The woman trailed off with a reminiscent sigh. Her eyes, the color of spring stars, glazed with memories, and James took the opportunity to regain his full consciousness. Trying not to wake the woman from her reverie, James carefully pulled his feet up to place them on the ground. But the woman's pallid eyes snapped to his face, and her steel grip landed heavily on his knee, freezing him. "Don't think I'm letting you go so easily."

"What do you want from me?" James asked, surveying the room. It was small and dark and stuffy and had only a single door. By the smell, James figured they were in an old, abandoned workshop; for from the wall swung a variety of tools that could be used in a manner of ways, most of which, James imagined the woman torturing him.

"I want a way into the palace." The woman's words surprised James, and he looked at her in confusion. "Oliver has been avoiding me recently, and I don't like it."

"I-I don't understand."

The woman flashed a toothy, seductive grin, raising the hair along James's arms and neck. "All I want is to follow you into the palace. Then I'll leave you alone."

James paused, considering her proposal. "Why do you want to get into the palace?"

She scowled. "Come now, don't act so dimwitted! I've not time for these silly games. I told you. I wish to speak with Oliver."

A sudden rush of unexpected protectiveness washed over James, and he frowned at the woman just as coldly as she had at him. "I get the impression that Mister Oliver would not wish to exchange words with you. Now if you'll excuse me." James stood up, but the woman materialized in his path, a snarl distorting her angelic features. But then she composed herself and replaced her enraged manner with a light, flirtatious expression.

"Oh, don't be so cold, dear. I really must apologize. I have yet to even introduce myself! My name is Caterina Cloven. You must understand; I only wish to see my love! He is my world, and I have been separated from him." When she saw that her approach had not fazed James in the slightest, her features darkened, expelling the beauty from her face and turning it to a malicious, hateful glare. When she spoke, her words were sharp and fast. "Look, you ungrateful newborn, if you wish not for your fellows to hear of your little escapade last night, I advise that you to help me."

James's expression was wiped clean with shock. "What?"

"That's right." Caterina's lips flicked into an arrogant sneer as she continued, "I saw it all. You lost control. You killed that poor woman. Bishop will have your head now that you've stolen one of his precious pets. That is, unless you allow me into the palace. Perhaps then I can fix your little problem."

A look of disgust overcame James's face. "I will not be blackmailed." With that he, shoved past Caterina to grab the door handle.

"What of your dear, little daughter?"

James froze.

"It'd be a pity for her to have to witness her father's terrible, monstrous acts. Who knows? Perhaps someone might slip up and deliver the bloody mess you left right to her door…" Caterina drifted off, obviously making a point.

"You wouldn't," James said, turning back around to glower at her.

The moment he was facing her, Caterina sped over to him and slammed her hands on the door behind him, pinning him against it. "Oh, darling, you can be quite sure that I would." And by the horrible glint in her eyes, James knew it was true.

Swallowing with some difficulty, he consented to aid her, only grudgingly, however. With an arrogant sneer, Caterina reached around James and opened the door, pressing her body uncomfortably close to his body all the while.

O.o.O

By the time the pair reached the palace door through which James had escaped last night, the sun was beginning to paint the sky with rosy shades of pink and pallid hues of yellow. James led her to the door, which he now realized was completely hidden from the outside view by several large, thick bushes, and reluctantly let her inside. The silver of her dress glowed like a dim star in the darkness of the passage. She breathed deeply as if the stench of damp stone and rotting things pleased her.

"Thank you, James," she sighed.

"How do you know my name?" he asked sharply.

Caterina hardly glanced at him while she waved her hand dismissively saying, "Oh, I overheard your meeting with Oliver when you first got to town."

"You were spying on me?"

"Not you, you fool! Oliver. I always follow him."

Suddenly, James felt the tingling of apprehension in his gut; he'd known she was dangerous, but he hadn't known she was so bad as to tail Oliver.

"Uh—" began James, but he was cut off by an incredulous voice gasping,

"Caterina?"

Through the shadows of the passage, James made out Oliver's slim figure. Something inside James fluttered at the sight: guilt for letting this woman into the palace and something hotter that reached deep inside him to warm parts that hadn't been alive since Sofia's death. Confusion and guilt stuttered James's words as he stammered,

"O-Oliver, I—we were just…"

"Oh, Oliver, how I've desired to see you," breathed Caterina, slithering on graceful feet toward him like a snake.

"You _have_ seen me woman. You always, _always_ watch me like a panther stalking its prey from the shadows. When will I be ride of you?" he cried in exasperation and anger.

Caterina pouted her luscious, pink lips and whined, "But you left me all alone, Oliver! I want you to pay attention to _me_!"

A dark fire burned in Oliver's eyes, and James felt the dangerous atmosphere rising; he wished he could get this woman away from Oliver—who'd shown such kindness to James. A stirring of protectiveness continually washed over him like the sea berating the sand; he started to interrupt until Caterina's mischievous, enticing expression morphed to one of puzzlement then anger. "Oliver! Is that Amelie I smell on you!" she gasped, standing erect and offended.

James thought that, had Oliver been human, his face would've lit up like a blazing hearth. Instead, he quickly overcame his embarrassment and smirked at Caterina. "Why, yes. Indeed it is. Now, be gone from me, woman. I wish to have no more to do with the likes of you!" With that, Oliver swept past Caterina then James and out the door. As the older vampire passed, James noticed that he did, in fact, reek of Lady Amelie's scent. Somehow, it made James feel a bit jealous of her, though he didn't know why. It was alien to feel these things for a fellow man; not particularly wrong,—as was often thought in James's day—James felt, but then, he'd always kept an open mind and always judged fairly.

Caterina huffed in disappointment, crossing her arms over her generous breasts, and glowered after the absent Oliver. Shaking his head, James stepped to get around her and continue down the passage, but when he'd taken several steps, he noticed a second echo of resounding footsteps behind him. It seemed this moping female, a wounded pup, intended to follow after him. Before she could complete the idea, James whirled on her, his finger in her face. "Now, listen—" But his words were cut off by the sight of the teardrops showering down her cheeks. Silently, she sobbed, clutching her arms as if to fold herself inward in hopes of curling into so small a being she might disappear. Caught off guard, James stammered, "Uh—What—" For a moment, he searched frantically for the words. Then he finally sighed, "Oh, just come on." Wrapping a comforting around her shoulders, he led her through the passage until they reached the door to his and Quita's living quarters. Opening the door, he allowed her in first, but nearly froze when he heard voices inside the room.

Someone was in the room with his daughter.

Before he even tried to distinguish who the tone belonged to, James tackled the person. Crashing to the ground with a grunt, James straightened up to look at the intruder and recognize the shock of curly black hair, the glasses,—knocked askew by James's attack—and the pallid skin.

"Not the traditional greeting from a returning party, but I won't complain," chuckled Myrnin, holding his hands up in surrender.


	4. Chapter 4

** Okay, so be glad that I even managed to update so soon! Ha-ha, I've been completely swamped with school and other peoples' requests and stuff. It's crazy! Anyway, I really hope you all enjoy this chapter. I worked hard so appreciate, ha-ha! ;)**

** Chapter 4**

"Why are you here?" James spat, hoisting the other vampire to his feet. Myrnin dusted his clothes—which were quite a bit toned down from his usual apparel. The strange man now sported plain, black pantaloons with a ruffled, off-white top.

As he righted himself, Myrnin replied politely, "I was simply indulging in the company of your delightful, young daughter."

"Yes, my _human_ daughter." James simply couldn't keep the growl from slipping through his lips as he delivered a message-laden glare to Myrnin.

Obviously grasping for a change of subject, Myrnin glanced past James to gaze upon the puffy-eyed Caterina. "I see you have company." Eyeing James through narrowed lids, he added, "Interesting choice, might I say." The younger vampire rolled his eyes and moved to crouch in front of Quita who was situated on the cot, a book open in her lap. Though she still donned her nightgown, Quita was not shivering due to the large, dark coat—one far too large to be hers or James's—draped over her shoulders. He resisted turning a questioning gaze upon Myrnin as he did not want to give the older vampire the satisfaction of admitting he'd done his daughter a service with the garment. Instead, he knelt before his child and took her tiny hand in his.

"Are you alright, _mi Quita_?" he asked.

"_S__í_, Papa. _Señor_ Myrnin was only helping me to comprehend this book. I understand most of it, but some of the notes are in another language that you never taught me," she said quietly, the outline of a smile brushing her lips as she gazed fondly at her father. Now James was nearly forced to look up at Myrnin. But the vampire didn't seem to have any sort of emotion on his face. His expression was clean.

"I see. But why are you awake? You should have been asleep."

A blush crept into Quita's cheeks at her father's light scolding. She'd always been overly sensitive. Casting her eyes to the floor, she muttered, "I had a nightmare."

"The same as before?"

She nodded silently. James reached to tuck a finger under her chin to raise her face then he pressed a soft kiss to her brow and lifted her off of the cot in an enormous embrace. Giggling softly she wrapped her arms around her father's neck and squished her face into his neck affectionately, just as she'd always done.

A rustling sounded behind the hugging pair, and Quita lifted her head. "Hello," she chirped kindly. Twisting his head uncomfortably, James watched the girl extend her pudgy, little hand to Caterina. After a moment of uncertainty, the woman's lips twitched into a smile, and she carefully clasped Quita's fingers in her own, making Quita squeal in delight. James grinned at his daughter and then at Caterina who caught his thankful gaze for a moment.

"I'll be taking my leave again, then," Myrnin announced, picking up his cloak from the cot where it lay. Before he could do more than give a slight bow, however, Quita twisted around in James's arms to fling her grasp upon the unsuspecting vampire. James nearly passed out at the fright he felt when Myrnin's eyes widened, but instead of hunger, his dark gaze held a cautious but warm affection.

"_Gracias_ for reading with me, _Señor_ Myrnin; you were indeed very helpful," Quita murmured.

"_De nada_, child. I enjoyed my time with you as well," he replied. Placing her back into James's arms, Myrnin turned to stride for the door. Once he'd gone, James set Quita on her feet. As he put her down, the girl asked,

"Is Caterina going to be staying with us, Papa?"

Looking for an answer, James glanced back at the woman who was attempting to hide her earlier upset. Though her eyes retained some of their puffiness, she composed herself rather well before she said,

"I suppose I have no choice but to stay here, at least until nightfall." Quita beamed at this. She danced over to the older woman and took her hand in her small, pudgy one.

"Then perhaps we can spend some time together. Wouldn't you like that, Caterina?" The vampire blinked. Gazing at the little girl, Caterina's rigid features softened; a smile played across her lips as she replied,

"Indeed. I'd love that, Quita."

James settled himself on the cot as Quita led Caterina over to the table where they began to make shadow puppets in the rays of candlelight. The sight was almost relaxing enough to allow James to close his eyes and drift into sleep, but Caterina was a vampire. One he hardly knew, at that. So he remained vigilant as the pair amused themselves.

O.o.O

The emptiness of the space beside her woke Amelie. She twisted around in her sheets to find that, indeed, Oliver had gone. Her lungs exhaling a mournful sigh, she tangled her fingers in the wrinkled pillowcase which he'd left behind. The dark, spicy scent of his skin still lingered, and she inhaled deeply, burying her nose among the cloth. Her internal clock told her dawn was near, if not already come, so she scooted across the bed to curl into the sheets which he'd so recently vacated and drifted swiftly into a peaceful, quiet sleep.

O.o.O

As dawn chased him like a lioness after her prey, Oliver stole to the shadows, trying to limit his exposure to the hurtful rays. His refuge lay only several blocks away, but he'd neglected to feed for some time. The burning sun intensified the biting hunger that raged through him. No matter how hard he tried to avoid them, humans and their enticing scent never seemed to leave. As he skirted an alley with a drunkard who'd passed out in his own vomit, Oliver was forced into the busy street. Tripping slightly on the cobblestone from hunger, Oliver stumbled through the crowd until he was nearly trampled by a very large, very black horse. "Remove yourself, Oliver. Or perhaps you'd like enjoy a night in the dungeon for making me sit in this sun for longer than I really must," hissed a familiar, hostile voice. Sure enough, Oliver peered up to find Bishop, Amelie's father and ruler of this kingdom, perched upon his prized steed, Gallows. As Oliver stared, mesmerized by the king's sudden and untimely appearance, Gallows whinnied and stomped his black hoof. "I'm quite sure you're not deaf, Oliver. Now move."

The menace in Bishop's tone stirred Oliver from his stupor and he thrust himself to the side of the narrow street. Bishop's dark eyes glared at Oliver from atop Gallows as he trotted past, his two guards close behind. In the next moment, Oliver was being flung back into the roadway by a pair of bony, calloused hands. He looked around to find an old woman with scraggly, gray hair and a large nose fixing him with an agitated glower for his having landed on top of her. Still flustered by the suddenness of all of this, Oliver simply blinked at her in confusion. Slowly, recognition spread over the woman's features. Her chapped lips opened in a silent look of terror to reveal yellow, rotten teeth. Being a member of Bishop's inner circle had gained Oliver celebrity status among the king's subjects, and with it came an unspeakable fear which the people held of him. They all know of the blood-suckers who reign over them.

But Oliver's mind couldn't be bothered with the terrors of these humans. Bishop is back. Amelie must be warned. They will have to take extra precautions to ensure Bishop doesn't discover James and his daughter. If he does, he'll have Amelie beheaded for sure, Oliver probably as well.

Blindly, he began to rush back through the throng of villagers, hurrying to Amelie.

O.o.O

The first sign that something was amiss was Caterina's stiffened nature. As the morning wore on, she'd relaxed, but now, as she sat at the table with a deck of playing cards lain out between her and Quita, Caterina's movements became very tense as if she were afraid something might attack her at any moment. Her blue gaze flitted nervously toward the shadows every few moments.

Suddenly, in the flickering light of the candle, the heavy oak door to their little apartment swung open. Myrnin's towering figure swept in without so much as a greeting and pulled Caterina from her seat to mutter something in her ear as he propelled her out the door. James stood, alarmed. Before he could ask anything however, Myrnin shoved Caterina in the direction of the door leading to his study and turned to announce, "Bishop has returned. I apologize for the rude interruption of your morning, but I must borrow Caterina for a moment. Please, for your own safety, stay here, do not make any venture outward." With that, he shut the door with a soft _thump_.

Stunned, James blinked after the vanished pair for a moment before a small tug at his trouser leg brought him back to his senses. "Will we get to finish our game, Papa?" Quita asked anxiously.

"I'm sure you will."

This didn't seem to reassure her much. After a short pause, she asked, "Caterina's not in trouble, is she?"

James wanted to tell her that no, Caterina wasn't in trouble and that she'd back in their room playing cards before lunchtime, but he had a feeling he'd be lying if he did. So instead he answered, "I honestly don't know, _mi Quita_."

O.o.O

"Caterina, my darling, so this is where you've been! I've been searching for you all night," droned Oliver in his best fake-adoring tone. Pulling his bewildered ex-lover into an embrace, Oliver hissed quickly into her ear, "Play along."

Behind him, Oliver could feel the presence of Bishop as he watched them reunite. His smile seemed somewhat twisted as if he felt sick at the sight of affection.

To protect Amelie, Oliver had to stage this show of still being together with Caterina because if Bishop found out about their relationship, he'd find some way to play with their minds to make them end up despising or killing each other. To watch others—especially his own daughter—suffer pleased his maniacal sense of humor.

"Well, of course I was here! Where else would I be, dear?" Caterina squealed in her usual façade. All of them: Caterina, Oliver, Amelie, Myrnin, played silly fools around Bishop so as to keep him clueless to their deep hatred for him. Oliver's grip on Caterina's arm tightened painfully when she placed a kiss on his cheek. He couldn't keep his eyes from flickering to Amelie who stood tall in her pastel green gown. But her gray eyes seemed to take no notice of the exchange. "I see our Lord Bishop has returned. Was the Red City exciting, my lord?" Caterina gushed. Oliver hated watching her act so pretentious, but he knew it had to be done.

Removing his cloak, Bishop answered, "The only thing remotely exciting about that horrid city was leaving the damned place." Turning to Amelie, he commanded, "Call for a servant. I wish for a drink."

Oliver fought the grimace fighting its way into his expression as the young servant girl trudged nervously toward Bishop. He enchanted her mind and led her to a plush sofa—for they'd all congregated to greet Bishop in one of the palace's parlors. Bishop took an unnatural pleasure in having others watch him feed, so he showed no hesitation in placing his lips to the maid's neck while the others lingered on their feet uncomfortably. The girl grunted in pain at first then she began pant as Bishop fed his pleasure into her; it was disgusting to watch him toy with his meals.

When he finished, Bishop tossed the girl onto the cushions and inhaled deeply. "Much better. My senses were beginning to dull from hunger." Those snake-like eyes opened to land on Oliver. He hissed, "Perhaps you should've join in, Oliver. I can tell you've neglected your body." Bishop gestured to the girl now unconscious beside him.

It was a test.

He wanted Oliver to reject the offer because he knew full well that if the girl was fed upon again, it was very likely she'd die. Bishop wanted to catch Oliver feeling sympathy for a human. Oliver didn't feel anything special toward humans, but he took no joy in killing them. It was the game they played: Bishop ever baiting him for a slip up while Oliver quietly awaited his chance to kill or overthrow Bishop once and for all.

"Come now, Oliver. I can see the hunger in your eyes," Bishop purred.

Slowly, eyes never moving from Bishop's, Oliver approached the girl and lowered his lips to her wrist. His body screaming for the life-giving fluid just beneath this paper-thin layer, Oliver pressed his fangs to the girl's veins and began to feed.

** Thanks for reading. REVIEW PLEASE! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, everybody! :) I really like this chapter for some reason…anyway, I'd love to hear some feedback and know what you thought about it! So review, please! :D Also, I'd like to say that this chapter is in honor of my sweet friend, Evanescence-in-Constantinople, who is going through a kind of rough patch. Just want you to know I'm here for you, and I love you and I hope this cheers you up! :) One last thing: The chapter after this one (chapter 7) is probably going to be the last for this story. It's going to be really intense and epic, though. :D**

**Chapter 5**

Caterina sighed forlornly as she watched the tiny black spider skid its way across the ceiling. Up on the bunk beside where she lay on the stone floor, Quita slept. By the time Caterina had reentered the compartment, the young girl had slumped in her father's arms. Now she lay curled in his lap, her thumb tucked in her mouth, her soft snores making Caterina's heart ache. She found herself wishing for such a delicate, beautiful creature to call her own.

Twisting her auburn hair in her fingers, Caterina started when a sleep-softened voice chuckled, "Isn't it rather uncomfortable down there?"

Her pale eyes flashed open to see James's face, illuminated slightly by the dying candle on the table, peering at her over the edge of the bed. Too tired to cast on her usual passionate façade, Caterina smiled a tiny bit. "It's my safe haven. I always feel far better down here than anywhere else," she explained.

James shifted Quita gently so that he could slide of the sheets and onto the ground to join Caterina. "Interesting. Quita generally tucks herself beneath a blanket, huddles in a corner, and sucks her thumb to feel safer. I found her that way the first night she started having nightmares."

"The poor thing. It must be horrible having to fend off such things each night. Though she seems peaceful now."

"Yes, as long as I hold her while she drifts off, her slumber is unimpeded."

"I see."

The pair remained silent for a long time, watching the candlelight flicker on the walls. Gradually, Caterina became very conscious of James's body next to hers; the hardness of his muscles, the calm breath, the smooth skin of his arm brushing against hers…

No.

She'd devoted herself to Oliver. James was an acquaintance, friendly at best. Nothing more.

Sitting up stiffly, Caterina pronounced, "I suppose I'll check if Myrnin is doing anything—"

"He won't want to be disturbed," James sighed. "The old lunatic seems to dislike uninvited guests."

"I see. Then perhaps I'll, uh, try for a nap. I'll just squeeze into that corner there," she gestured to the secluded area on the opposite side of Quita's sleeping place. It was ideal not only because of the fact it was on the floor and confined, but it also allowed room for only a single body: no room for James.

Settled comfortably, she closed her eyelids and willed herself to sleep, but it seemed the gods were against her. Mind buzzing, Caterina's ears listened to the soft rustle of James's clothes as he bustled about.

Just as she was finally beginning to drift off, Caterina felt a slight weight drape across her. Blinking, she glimpsed James laying a thin quilt over her. Heart warmed by the kind gesture, Caterina snuggled into the fabric that smelled so delectably of James.

O.o.O

The day had only just begun and here laid Oliver, restless, in the plain bed in the guest chamber which Bishop had offered him. His thoughts refused to rest, and all the while they continually trailed back to Amelie. Her translucent, pale hair that glistened like moonlight splayed across her pillow as she slept. That's how he'd left her that morning. Now he wouldn't be allowed to touch her for an unknown amount of time; however long it would be, he knew every second would be unbearable. And not simply because he couldn't run his fingers across her pale skin but because he found himself constantly _desiring_ to. He hated desire. This woman was driving him into insanity like a hammer driving a nail. His body reacted to the very thought of her, but his mind scolded him harshly for it. He had to play the game. Amelie had probably only lain with him that night to confuse him. They constantly grappled for the upper hand, continuing to rocket higher and higher to the next level. Yes, that had to be it. Amelie had always been a stickler for image, and sleeping with a man who you'd yet to exchange rings with was a definite blot on the canvas that was her perfect image. She wanted him to believe that she actually _cared_ for him! What a ridiculous notion! As if either party could ever harbor feelings for the other; no, he was simply lusting after her flesh, nothing more, for she _was_ undeniably beautiful. So he'd play her game, but watch her even more closely than before.

Oliver grinned at her mischievous tactics. Women's devilishness will never force Oliver to kneel.

O.o.O

"Why would he come back so suddenly?" Amelie stormed. She shoved a dust-covered volume from its perch atop several others. Wincing as the ancient text slammed to the ground, Myrnin sighed and rubbed his eyes under their bifocals. "He could have sent a messenger like usual, at the very least!"

"Well, it _is_ his kingdom, Amelie," Myrnin remarked, though instant regret reared its ugly head. Her piercing gray eyes snapped to him; he wondered at the absence of the crack of said weapon. A snarl began forming on her lips and she growled,

"You are not helping Myrnin. I wonder why I've only male companions to talk with. It has become rather inconvenient."

Frustration forced Myrnin's tongue. "Perhaps you'd prefer Caterina then!" He thrust his hand angrily toward the hidden door that led to James and Quita's safe haven. Amelie only glowered at him. Myrnin heaved a long sigh. "Look, I want to listen to you just as I always have. But you make it rather difficult when my belongings are being destroyed!"

For a moment, Amelie almost seemed as if she wanted to shoot back a retort, but then the fire in her died. She slumped tiredly into one of Myrnin's cluttered armchairs. "I apologize, Myrnin. I just cannot keep my control when it comes to my father."

"I know."

"It puzzles me why he's returned so suddenly. He didn't even seem to have a purpose when he arrived. He simply waltzed in and fed then left after Oliver…finished."

Myrnin pictured the poor, limp figure draped across the sofa, dead. Oliver had had no choice but to drain the servant girl completely. It wasn't like they'd never killed to feed, but when it's done it creates certain issues. Dealings with family, legal problems and the like are never pleasant.

"Well, he did appear to pay a great deal of attention to Oliver. Perhaps the man has done something to provoke your father." Amelie stiffened. Myrnin's onyx-colored eyes blinked. "Amelie?"

"Perhaps," was her only response before she swept from the study, stirring dust as she went.

Myrnin sighed and shook his head as he crouched to retrieve the misplaced volume from where it lay, open, on the ground. Just then, a sudden wave of nausea washed over him, nearly knocking him to the floor. Alarmed—for vampires never contract illnesses—he grasped the table to steady himself. Once the spasm passed, he rose slowly to his feet.

Darkness overrode his vision.

O.o.O

The sense of a presence outside his chamber woke Oliver. He rose silently and slid panther-like to the door. Though there was no sound beyond, he was sure someone was there, lingering in the corridor. In the blink of an eye, he yanked the barrier open to reveal Amelie, gray eyes wide in surprise and hair in slight disarray as if she'd been fiddling with it in stress.

"What can I help you with, your highness?" Oliver inquired coldly. Bishop could be watching, and Oliver wasn't about to allow him the satisfaction of catching them. Nor did he want Amelie to think he'd fallen into her trap like some foolish prey.

Without a word, Amelie pushed into his bedchamber and past him. Oliver shut the door behind her, but not before checking for eavesdroppers outside.

"I think my father may be suspicious," Amelie began.

"Of what, my lady?"

A scowl ruined the princess's beautiful features. Oliver felt a bit of satisfaction at bringing such a look upon her face. "You know, you fool. I will not allow you to provoke me into saying it aloud."

"And if I do know of what you speak, what do you suggest we do? For I see nothing to be done."

"Well…" Amelie hissed, but she obviously hadn't quite thought this the whole way through. Or perhaps, Oliver thought happily, she hadn't expected him to act so coldly. "I don't know. But I just know he's going to try something to divide all of us. Just keep your guard up, Oliver."

"It always is."

A shadow passed over Amelie's eyes, turning them a deep, nightly shade as she stared into Oliver's. "Yes, just as it is now." Oliver shrugged and meandered loosely toward his messy bed. Casually, he deposited himself on the edge of the mattress, stretched out, placed his hand behind his head, and stared absently at the ceiling above him. "Why are you acting so strangely, you fool?" Her voice just barely hid the rage roiling deep within.

"Are my actions so unusual, my lady?"

Amelie stomped her foot. "Yes! And stop insisting upon calling me such titles, not while we speak of such matters."

"The fool speaks what is foolish only, your highness." Oliver could sense her growing agitation, and it excited him. A small, quiet part of him could tell he was being swept into the current of passion that awoke between the pair, but his consciousness wouldn't hear of it. So he goaded her on. "Besides, I am only a fool in your little show, am I not?"

"_Oliver!"_ she screamed.

Never before had her voice risen to such an octave or volume. Now he looked at her, startled by the outburst, to find tears spilling down her cheeks and her hands balled into fists.

Looking back on it, he wondered when exactly he'd fallen for this woman, but at that moment, all he knew was that he needed to touch her, to feel her skin brush his. He longed to smooth his fingers through her silky hair and breathe in her sweet, flowery scent. Though her face was wet, he pressed his lips against it. She tangled her hands in the folds of his shirt, nearly grasping it so hard as to rip it. Unable to control himself, Oliver caught Amelie beneath the knees, his other arm supporting her back, and carried her to the bed.

All day long, they indulged their passionate desires, unaware of the world outside, until neither could continue.

O.o.O

Swimming as if in a deep pool in the middle of the night, Myrnin fought to surface from the blackness that swamped him. The harder he fought, the heavier the liquid seemed to become—like a choking tar that engulfed him. His limbs grew tired, but he persisted.

Finally, a faint light broke into his little domain of darkness. He lay on the ground staring up at an inexplicably angry James who wrung Myrnin's throat with his hands, shrieking and shouting something that Myrnin's confused ears couldn't quite make out.

Panicked, Myrnin struggled against James. But then he saw her.

A tiny form, sweet really, if it weren't for the bloody, jagged gashes ribboning her throat. Myrnin gaped at the girl who was cradled gently, lovingly in Caterina's arms who sobbed heavily.

Somehow Myrnin knew he'd done this to her.

It was Quita.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, my little readers! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I remind you to please review. They make me happy. :)**

**Chapter 6**

Pain pierced Myrnin's heart as he looked at the girl's body. So young, so fragile, so full of potential and here she laid, eyes glazed over in horror, lips split in a heinous, strangled scream. Myrnin could barely feel the pressure of James's nails digging into his throat for the wringing agony around his heart.

How could this have happened? Little time had passed since he'd last fed, and never before had he blacked out so entirely, like his own mind had locked his sane self away in a dark corner of his psyche.

Suddenly, Myrnin became away that James was no longer choking him. In fact, the younger vampire was now strapped in the arms of someone—Oliver. He'd physically lifted James off of the floor and now held the flailing man. Amelie appeared, brow creased in confusion and inquired, "Are you alright?"

"No," Myrnin replied; for how else was he to respond when he'd just murdered this innocent child in a senseless daze. Quita's blood now crusted his hands and under his fingernails, making him grimace in disgust at what he'd done.

"What happened here?" Amelie puzzled aloud to no one in particular.

"I killed her. Without a damned reason, I ripped out her throat." Myrnin's voice quivered, and he began rubbing fiercely at the brown substance on his skin. He felt disgusting, revolting, and repulsive, and he couldn't stand himself or this _damned blood_! He almost wanted James to flay him alive; he deserved it.

Amelie seemed even more befuddled, and all of the witnesses were either hysterical or dead. She looked up at Oliver helplessly, but he seemed quite preoccupied with James who still persisted in struggling against his hold. His shouts drowned out any possible words Amelie wished to say, so instead, she stood and turned to Caterina. She shook with silent sobs, the girl's body still nestled close against her. Brusquely, Amelie knelt and hoisted Caterina's quivering form into her arms along with Quita whose blood still oozed slowly from the wound in her throat. "I think it best if we remove these three from James's sight first. Perhaps them he'll calm down," Amelie suggested, grabbing hold of Myrnin's hand as she stood. She lifted the weight of the two other girls easily and even pulled Myrnin to his feet effortlessly.

"What should I do with him?" Oliver asked, gesturing with his chin to the flailing man in his arms.

"Just hold him, and wait until I return." Oliver sighed simply for the purpose of letting Amelie know how irritated this incident had made him. Amelie led Myrnin and carried Caterina and Quita out into the passage that opened onto the outside. With the utmost care, so as not to jostle Quita's body, Amelie settled Caterina on the stone. "I need to know what happened, Myrnin. I know you didn't do this. You wouldn't."

"You're right; I wouldn't. But I did."

"No, Myrnin. I know you didn't do this."

A calm, emotionless voice said, "Yes he did. It was him." Caterina's pallid eyes gazed numbly toward the opposite wall which she was propped upon. "He wandered in as if he'd no idea where he was going. Then he tore into her skin like some ghastly animal." Myrnin seemed to have no response to this accusation, but Amelie's heart refused to let her believe it.

"But you say he was not himself. Then it was not _truly_ him who killed her," Amelie argued.

"Enough, Amelie. Quita died by my hand, whether I was conscious of it or not. Stop trying to deny it. What we need to focus on is why. How could I suddenly lose my sanity like that? Our kind never age in mind or body, so how can this be?" Myrnin's mind was obviously fighting to deny the cooling body in Caterina's arms by focusing on a simpler subject: a puzzle. One that his mind could whittle away at until nothing was left but a skeleton of the original. Something he could solve with objectivity instead of facing the overwhelming emotions that must have pooled behind that dam his mind has built. Soon that dam would explode, Amelie knew.

She heaved an unnecessary sigh and said, "I must go back inside. Caterina, will you be able to fend off Myrnin in light of his having another attack? I cannot bring him back in, but if you'd like to rejoin us—"

"No. I can take care of myself," answered the younger vampire. She still had not moved her blue eyes from the spot on the wall. Myrnin slid down beside her to stare blankly at the wall as well, though his mind seemed to be full of scientific things while Caterina's was only empty. Shaking her head in dismay, Amelie made her way back into the apartment. James had evidently calmed down for now he sat, working his hands, on Quita's cot.

Giving Oliver a glance, Amelie began, "James, will you tell us exactly what happened?"

James ripped his nails along his forearm leaving long open gashes, but he hardly seemed to notice. Amelie eyed Oliver meaningfully, and he restrained James's hands. "H-He came in as he normally does, strutting his proud, arrogant trot. But I saw something was off right away. He had some sort of-of gleam in his eyes, something I've never seen before. I've witnessed true hunger, my lady, but never in my life have I seen so desperate and primal a hunger as that. It was like he needed to feed like humans need to breathe, and it didn't matter who the victim was. But the awful thing was that his face was not his own. That _thing_ that crawled through my door, utilizing Myrnin's tone and body, was not Myrnin." James shivered and turned his green eyes up to Amelie. "I have never been a religious man, your highness, but I swear that man was possessed."

Oliver scoffed, earning himself a scolding glare from Amelie. "There must be a logical reason for this; Myrnin has already begun thinking it over. If anyone is to find the answer, it will be him," she said confidently.

"Unless he loses his marbles again, that is. Oh, wait. They're already half gone anyway," remarked Oliver coldly. The dispute between the two men was really beginning to wear on Amelie's nerves.

"Fine. If you are so doubtful of his abilities, you can stay and watch James and Caterina. We will give the girl a proper burial, but until then, I want Myrnin away from here, and I won't leave James and Caterina unprotected." Oliver's face curled into an indignant sneer.

"Never one to soften, are you?" Amelie gave no reaction, so just to try her, Oliver added, "Even after today."

Pale hair sent in a tornado, she whipped around to face Oliver, and Amelie let out a surprised, choked sound. Brow raised in arrogance at having regained her attention, Oliver said, "_Now_ I don't mind watching them."

"Of course you don't." Amelie huffed and turned stiffly to make her way back out into the passageway to retrieve Caterina and Myrnin.

O.o.O

"What the devil could this be?" Myrnin shouted. His black ringlets lay mussed and tousled about his face from being run through by his fingers so much. He hunched determinedly over his table, upon which was lain out several parchments of long-forgotten ages on vampire history. "None of these documents alludes to even a hint of such a thing as what happened to me. We never fall ill; we never deteriorate from age; we never change. Then what is different now?"

"Perhaps this is something undiscovered," Amelie attempted. Myrnin growled an irritated reply of some brutish, wordless grunt. At this, Amelie gestured with her hand in exasperation. "Shall I leave then?" But the scientist's mind appeared to have wandered into the depths of thought into which only his could venture. Amelie curtsied sassily, lifting the layers of her elaborate, violet dress behind his back before slipping back out into the palace halls. She ambled aimlessly for a time through the complicated corridors of her father's palace—one she hoped would soon be hers—admiring the gorgeous paintings she'd gathered over the years to add a touch of life to the cold, stone walls. Her feet ferried her to one of her most beloved niches in the colossal palace: a tiny parlor located in the east wing. The golden firelight lit the familiar mahogany tables and maroon sofas. Gently placing herself upon the well-worn fabric of her favorite item, the scarlet piece from the Elizabethan era, Amelie closed her eyes and let herself drift in the silent darkness.

"Comfortable, are we?" The voice startled Amelie out of her half sleep; she bolted upright, eyes spread wide. Her father had apparently sauntered in silently to settle himself on the couch opposite Amelie.

"Indeed," she replied neutrally.

Bishop gazed at her for a moment, assessing every detail. Finally, he said, "Thought I heard a rather anguished tone emanating from near Myrnin's study."

"Did you?" If she'd had a beating heart, it probably would have been flailing like a beached fish by now.

"Yes. I was rather disturbed. But the old maniac seems to be quite lost in his studies."

"You looked in on him?"

"Why, of course. One must always look after his subjects."

"A very gracious ruler we have."

At this, Bishop's lips snaked their way across his face into a nasty grin, his dark eyes never moving from Amelie's. "I never knew you to kiss my feet so enthusiastically," he said, a secret in his voice. Lifting himself from his perch, he moved to sit at her side. She shivered as his lifeless breath brushed her skin. He leaned very close to her ear; so close she had to force herself not to recoil. When he spoke again, his whisper was like the hiss of a snake, dangerous, secretive, and terrifying. "Perhaps instead of lying here, you ought to be watching after your _own_ subjects."

O.o.O

James gazed upward to the heavens that smiled quietly down upon his daughter as he, Caterina, and Oliver laid her to rest in the crude grave they'd dug for her. The stars twinkled happily as if they were joyful that a new member had joined their ranks to sparkle alongside them in their deep, sapphire ocean. He hardly heard the words that Caterina muttered over the child's grave; his mind was fully somewhere else. Time passed around him, but he barely felt aware of anything. Quita was gone. This was it. The last little bit of his past life had died because he'd brought her to this horrible place with Bishop and his cruel, oppressive rules. Nothing existed to him except him and the night.

Suddenly, a weight fell on his shoulder. He started and glanced around to find Oliver standing at his side, his pale skin washed a glimmering silver in the starlight: for it was a moonless night. "You'll have to come inside sometime. We can't leave you standing out here in plain sight," Oliver said not unkindly. Despite his usual cool façade, he seemed to genuinely feel some sympathy for James's situation—though the odds were not in James's favor on the amount of that sympathy.

"Of course," replied James, but he didn't move. His glance was captivated by the reflection of the stars in Oliver's onyx-hued eyes. Something about them seemed so…

Comforting.

"James?"

Oliver even seemed to be emanating an intoxicating smell: musk and spice. James's head began to swim with the overwhelming taste of Oliver's scent. Sounding as if he were drugged, James stammered, "You s-smell really good, O-Oliver." His legs seemed to waver underneath him, and suddenly, he was plunging face-first toward the ground. Life had taken on a slow-motion effect. Oliver's arms closing around James's torso seemed to take ages. But finally, there they were; James sagged in Oliver's grasp.

"Really, you're useless," Oliver muttered. James found this unrealistically hilarious, and his goofy giggles rang through the air. Mind wandering off to some far corner of his brain, James grappled with Oliver until they were both sprawled on the grass. Though James still guffawed, Oliver was absolutely livid, forcing himself not to skin the fool for his behavior.

James gradually calmed, and Oliver waited for the laughing spasms to leave his body before he attempted at picking the other man up again. "W-Where are we going, Oliver?"

"Inside."

"B-B-But I want t-to stay out here w-with you. 'Cause you smell so nice…" James's green eyes suddenly darkened and Oliver say his fangs slide down. In the split second that could have meant life or death for him, Oliver leaped backward just as James lashed outward. Making note to tell Amelie she owed him one, Oliver sidestepped as the other vampire came rushing at him, but he hadn't realized that James's fighting skills were quite so advanced. Instead of simply running past Oliver, James performed a swift turn and hooked his hands in the folds of Oliver's shirt and yanked. Brain knocked about a bit, Oliver focused on reality to find himself on the ground with James straddling his chest. "It's time for some fun, Oliver." James's voice had adopted a husky rasp as he leaned forward. Oliver admitted that he didn't know James well, but this seemed wildly out of character for him. Fighting to free his hands from where James had pinned them to the ground, Oliver growled,

"Snap out of it, you idiot!"

James giggled again that manic laugh—the laugh of a crazed man who'd lost his mind. Oliver could feel the other vampire's breath on his face as James prepared to administer the final blow: ripping out Oliver's throat. All the while, Oliver thrashed wildly but vainly under his captor's unusually strong grip.

James's fangs were just inches from his target: Oliver's carotid artery. Or so Oliver thought.

Then James kissed Oliver.

**Okay, so epic ending! Makes you want to review right! :D Haha! Thanks for reading, even if you don't review. But seriously. Review. ;) By the way, that was a Dodgeball reference…if anybody caught that…**


	7. Chapter 7

** I AM SO SORRY! I just completely lost my inspiration to write for the longest time. It was weird and miserable. :( But now I'm back and hopefully for a long time! :D Please enjoy this chapter—which the VERY LAST CHAPTER! That's right! I stopped RIGHT BEFORE I FRIGGIN' FINISHED THE STUPID SERIES. Ugh…ha-ha sorry. I was upset with myself. Anyway, please review even though I don't deserve it…D'X**

** Chapter 7**

Carefully adjusting the glass slide under his magnifying tool—one of his own making—Myrnin gently nudged the nob to focus his view. Somehow he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

A sudden crashing sound startled the scientist out of his thoughts. He looked up crossly to find Amelie stalking purposefully across his study and carelessly shoving aside his belongings. "Amelie, I have news" Myrnin called excitedly. She ignored him; she began frantically pushing at the bookcase that hid the passageway to James's compartment. "Amelie!" Still she offered no response. She yanked the heavy door with such viciousness that the hinges nearly ripped free of their stone settings. "Amelie, what in the world—" But she appeared bent on getting into the passage.

Scowling with concern and exasperation, Myrnin sped after her, leaving his experiment unattended. In an instant, they were in front of James's door, and Amelie grasped the iron handle with her own iron grip then wrenched on it ferociously; it gave way with a loud groan from the unnecessary force, and inside, Caterina looked up from where she cowered on the floor, her eyes puffy and red. "Where is Oliver?" Amelie's voice was stone-cold with seriousness.

Caterina blinked up at her mistress and answered with an empty voice, "Outside. With James." Amelie passed through the room in a single moment, Myrnin at her side in wonderment of her actions. These acts were not typical of the Amelie he knew; this Amelie seemed panicked and scared—though she hid it well.

Her being in such a frightened rush left Myrnin no opening to inquire what had gotten her so riled up. When they burst out onto the lawn, there was no time left to even ponder her reasons: Oliver and James raged in an aggressive tussle. They threw each other long lengths across the lawn; they bit into each other's flesh; they slammed into each other with enough force to scramble a human's brain.

And Oliver was losing.

Without another thought, Myrnin raced into the quarrel to rip James's fangs from Oliver's arm. He'd had some hope that Amelie would help, but it seemed the astonishment of the scene before them had frozen her. So with a great amount of difficulty, he restrained James on the ground.

Now that he could look at the younger vampire, Myrnin discovered that James was not himself either. His eyes gleamed with a feral light—one that even frightened Myrnin. "James! Wake up, you dolt!" cried the unnerved vampire. It was apparent that nothing would rouse him. Myrnin was beginning to fear that the scientific discovery he'd made earlier was far worse than he'd initially thought.

"That imbecile tried to molest me! He should be ripped into a million pieces!" Oliver shrieked. He stumbled around the lawn, obviously affected by the large gashes in his flesh. They were healing quickly, due to his being a vampire, but there were so many… Myrnin puzzled at how James had come away with so few injuries. Oliver had always been known to be a very aggressive and effective opponent, and James was still only a simple _fledgling_!

When Oliver collapsed, he seemed to wake Amelie from her stupor; she rushed to his side and knelt in the grass, dirtying her skirts. Myrnin grimaced when she crooned to him in a soft voice. He could see what was going on between them.

In that moment of distraction James saw his opening. Flinging Myrnin into the stone wall of the palace, James lurched to his feet and disappeared into the darkness.

Amelie trembled with overwhelming panic. She felt Oliver's hand take hers comfortingly, but when she looked down at him her eyes could not abstain from taking note of his extensive injuries, causing her vision to blur with tears. A soft voice sounded not far behind her, and Amelie looked around to watch Caterina step cautiously onto the grass. "What happened here?" she asked, her brow curling in bewilderment.

Amelie could not speak, so nobody answered. When she found herself able to stand, she hurried over to her old friend. Myrnin lay face down in the grass. An open wound oozed dark, dark blood from the back of his head, drenching his hair. Settling herself beside her old friend, Amelie tenderly rolled him onto his back and lifted his head into her lap. After a moment, he stirred then blinked open his eyes. Myrnin's voice was little more than a mumble. "You—you have to stop James. He's—infected."

Amelie frowned. "Infected with what, Myrnin?"

"Bishop. He—must have brought back—a disease. Causes—insanity. I gave it to James. His fingernails—dug into my throat. Then he scratched his skin off. Blood transfer."

Amelie didn't completely understand, but she nodded and looked to Caterina. "You need to find James. Perhaps you can turn him lucid again. But be careful. He's obviously unpredictable." The other vampire nodded silently then took off into the night like an owl—silent and deadly. Myrnin's hand gripped Amelie's arm fiercely, drawing her gaze back to him, but he'd transformed. The Myrnin behind those black eyes was no longer the scholar that loved science. This creature was a killing machine, and it looked ready to kill her. She threw herself away from him, but he easily caught her, grabbing at her with a manic grin on his face. A choked scream rose in Amelie's throat; it couldn't escape as he pinned her to the ground.

Suddenly his weight atop her disappeared. Oliver struggled with the crazed vampire, fighting to gain control of him, but it was a lost battle. Myrnin soon wriggled from his arms and shot out into the night, an arrow of dangerous, uncontrolled insanity and hunger.

O.o.O

Slender, wretched fingers webbed across the sky over Caterina's head as she passed, silently stalking like a panther, through the bustling night forest. The nightlife that happened around her became distracting as she hunted for James; it caused her to miss a fatal sign: the sound of James launching down from a branch above to land directly atop her, pinning her to the ground.

O.o.O

Amelie felt entirely uncertain as to what to do. She could not leave Oliver alone with such serious injuries, but Caterina was out there alone with two deranged predators on the prowl. "Amelie…" Oliver's voice sounded ragged and faint. Amelie turned just in time to catch her lover as he fell.

Tenderly, she stretched him out on the grass and smoothed his dark hair back from his blood-smeared face. There was nothing she could do to help his injuries; she was helpless.

"What a shame," purred a lightly amused tone. It was one Amelie knew well. Raising her eyes to meet her father's, Amelie felt rage boiling just at the surface, ready to burst forth and destroy this man. "Your little friends seem to be quite preoccupied." Bishop smirked, his snake-like eyes glinting in the starlight.

Her fists shaking as she stood in front of her father, Amelie fought to form words. "What have you done? Do you want to destroy us all?"

"Now, how would that benefit me? No, no, little one. I only seek complete control." Still Bishop's tone was nonchalant as if he spoke of trivial matters like weather or crops.

A disgusted sneer snaked its way into Amelie's features, and she felt its negative connotations sinking into her heart. "So you'd see everyone around you suffer only so you might ensure your rule?'

Bishop dragged in a deep breath—almost as if it were a chore. His answer was a short, simple, "Yes."

The eruption of anger inside Amelie nearly caused her actual pain. She flew at her father, hands outstretched, eager claws. As expected, Bishop was not the least bit surprised by this move. In fact, he seemed quite prepared indeed. Easily side-stepping his daughter, Bishop maneuvered his foot to trip her in her rage-induced flight. Like a feline snatching its songbird prey from the air, he wrenched her upright and locked her arms at her sides. Striking like a snake, he plunged his fangs deep into Amelie's skin. She gaped, utterly confused. Thrusting her away from him, Bishop smirked and wiped her blood from his lips with his sleeve—quite out of his usual kingly character. Amelie's unspoken question hung in the air as she stared wide-eyed at her father. "Come on now, really. Cannot you guess?" he scoffed. Still she did not understand. "You disappoint me, girl. I would have thought you could, at the very least, realize that I've now infected _you_ as well."

Clutching at the healing wound in her shoulder, Amelie panicked at the thought of going mad as the others had. Her face contorted into an expression so full of grotesque hatred that it surpassed a grimace or even a sneer. "You are _despicable_," she spat.

"Me? But I am not the one who led you on all this time. At least you always held your suspicions of me. Yet someone even closer to you helped me in this cause…" Bishop's gaze wandered lazily toward the dark shape of Oliver's crumpled form on the ground.

Amelie frowned skeptically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, who was it that I simply _happened_ to run into just as I returned, hm? And how do you suppose I administered the first contaminant to Myrnin? They have always had a personal feud, as you know. He was happy to do it."

"Oliver wouldn't."

"Oh? And why is that? Because he loves you?" That startled Amelie. So he _did_ know. "What nonsense. Oliver is only after my kingdom, just as the rest of you, and he was willing to join me if it meant eliminating the number of opponents."

Amelie took an uncertain step backward. "Why should I believe you?"

Her father shrugged as if her believing him meant less to him than a hangnail. "Believe what you like; it makes little difference to me. You are all simple pawns to me, besides."

"Pawns, eh? And does a pawn do this?" Amelie acted as swiftly as was bodily possible for her, faking to the left then twirling around to knock her father to the ground, her knee digging into his back. Yet, Bishop did not seem even the slightest bit alarmed. Then a moment later, a shriek sounded from the trees behind, startling Amelie and allowing a small window of opportunity for Bishop to turn the table. Before she realized anything had happened, Amelie lie on the ground, her father poising a wooden stake he'd kept hidden above her. Fear gripped Amelie.

Leaning close to her, Bishop whispered, "This is what—" Suddenly, her father's weight atop her disappeared. Amelie sat up to find her father struggling with James who appeared to have regained his sanity. Although he was much younger than Bishop, James still held his own, but Amelie knew that wouldn't be true for long.

James looked at her and yelled, "Run!"

Glancing at Oliver's unconscious body, she could not decide whether or not to trust what her father had told her. But James's second strained urging decided for her and sent her pelting into the woods. It wasn't long before she found Myrnin's scent. With the chaos in her mind, she made a snap decision to follow it. It led to a rather gruesome scene. Among a small thicket of bushes laid Caterina's mangled body—hers had been the scream from earlier. And beside her knelt Myrnin who, thankfully, appeared lucid once again. He looked up at the sound of her arrival and explained, "James. He…he lost control. I was barely able to grasp my own sanity let alone tear him away from her." Gazing sadly at the girl, Myrnin rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "We must leave, Amelie. Bishop is too strong. We must run and regroup."

"What?" Her mind felt sluggish and tired after everything that had happened.

Wrestling his way out of the thicket, Myrnin grabbed Amelie's arm and pulled her away. Once they'd reached the far end of the forest at the bottom of the hill on which the palace stood, Myrnin asked, "Where is Oliver?"

"He-He is back at the palace, unconscious." Myrnin frowned and continued to pull her through the city. He seemed so completely intent on reaching his goal that he ignored Amelie's stumbling questions. It was not long before they reached the harbor and Myrnin threw Amelie onto a small, wooden ship. Pushing herself up she finally growled irately, "James is back there too, fighting Bishop. We ought to go—" An agonized, soul-shaking scream hurtled down from the palace grounds to assault their sensitive eardrums. There in the starlight, their vampire sight could distinguish a pair of shadows. One dropped to his knees before the other. Watching from the ship as it slowly drifted into the bobbing waves, Amelie covered her mouth in horror when she realized it was James.

Bishop had ripped off James's head.

O.o.O

Three days later—all spent aboard the ship—Mrynin had yet to have another relapse, but he'd forced Amelie to promise she would tie him down with rope if he did. She lay in her barrack pondering whether she would be able to sit and watch her old friend struggle for his sanity like that. But then again, he'd have to do the same for her if she ever had such an episode.

Restlessly, she tossed and turned until finally she rose from her barrack and ascended to the deck. Several sea-hardened crew members nodded their respect as she passed, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was set on finding Myrnin. He'd been distant since they'd left France; they'd hardly spoken two words to each other.

Inside his quarters, she found him poring over a map. "Myrnin?" she said quietly. When he did not respond her voice rose with agitation. "Myrnin? Myrnin, I'll not have you ignoring me like this! Look at me!" Finally, the other vampire closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lifted his head. Haughtily, Amelie remarked, "Thank you. Now. Where exactly are we headed?"

For a moment, she though he might not answer and instead would simply continue to stare at her, but he finally said, "England."

She nodded tersely. "Why?"

"They are said to have landed some new colonies in some far off land across the sea. I believe that such place would be convenient for us to hide from your father."

Shuddering at the thought of that man, Amelie asked, "What is this place called?"

"America."

**I know that this story is utterly NOT accurate as to how they came to America, but it's a FanFiction so…yeah! Anyway, I would like to say again, PLEASE REVIEW! They make me happy. ^.^ And now I must bid you all a tear-stained farewell. **


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